Build a house, they said. It’ll be fun, they said.
Maybe it is fun, if you like divorce.
Or am I?
I totally am, as I sit here in a rocking chair with a baby attached to my chest and a feverish little boy sleep-moaning in the bed beside me. Tomorrow was going to be a day of construction clean-up–of buffing floors and stacking wood, and shop vac-ing sawdust–of quality time with the husband, who I feel like I haven’t seen in ages and who was probably relieved to have a helping hand out at the property, where he has spent so many long lonely hours over the past year.
Except it’s January and I forgot that at any given moment a child can and will come down with strep/flu/MRSA/ear infections/rabies/head lice/pink eye, thus canceling our best laid plans and pushing back the “schedule” yet again.
Guys? I’m not so sure building our own house was a good idea.
Caleb works and coaches and parents–now we can officially add “builds” to his long list of accomplishments and responsibilities. Me? I sit on my butt and make milk with m’ boobs.
And when he finally comes home from hammering/wiring/tiling/falling off ladders, I am in such a frazzled, emotionally volatile state that I can’t even carry on a normal husband-wife convo–which is probably for the best, since he is too exhausted to speak anyway.
And if you know Caleb, you know that he is usually never at a lack for 80,000 words. Per minute.
We are both tired and worried and over it.
Y’ALL. This house-building stuff is not for the faint of heart, and I wish I had known that 2 years ago–because I happen to have a very faint heart.
So if you’ve just acquired some land and are thinking about building, stop, and re-read this post. Be prepared to hire a contractor or, better yet? Stick a trailer on it. Boom. Building!
I’m sure this will all be worth it. I’ll leave on an optimistic note by posting some progress pictures: